


Crash, Boom, Bang

by suchanadorer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 80's AU, M/M, Prompt Fill, Rock Band AU, SRS 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://srs2012.dreamwidth.org/4895.html?thread=132127#cmt132127">Prompt at SRS:</a> <i>Dean is a huge fan of a classic rock band; and one of the members in particular.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash, Boom, Bang

Dean’s 1967 Chevy Impala has a tape deck.

This is lucky, because Dean Winchester is a mixtape aficionado. He doesn’t have a stereo that will let him make his own, but he always has several on hand that he can swap for at record stores. The ads in the back of the guitar magazines are tempting to read, but impossible for someone with no permanent return address.

He’ll listen to lots of stuff. The thrash coming out of California right now is pretty awesome, and he’s happy to see the hair bands starting to fade, even though he knows Sam loves them. He likes heavy guitar riffs and big, fat drum rhythms that he can play air drums along with. He doesn’t think he’s particularly picky, but there is always one band he asks after.

The Dark Angels are Dean’s very favorite band. They play good, old-fashioned classic rock; started out covering Sabbath and Zeppelin, and you can still hear it in the crunch of their guitars and the organic sound of their drums.

Dean is particularly taken with the drummer. His name is Castiel. None of the others have last names either. Raphael and Michael play guitar. Gabriel plays bass, and the singer. Oh, the singer. A smoking hot redhead named Anna, whose stage show is rumored to include her all but making love to the microphone.

It is a show Dean will be seeing for himself tonight. He pulls on a faded black t-shirt and his leather jacket and heads out of the hotel room. He’d asked Sam three times if he wanted to go with him, and every time Sam had turned him down, arguing that if Dean was going to get his rocks off over some redhead in tight leather pants, then he didn’t want to be around to watch. His brother doesn’t know that it’s not only Anna he’s going there to see.

Dean jimmies the lock on the back door of the club and slips in among the densely-packed crowd. The place smells like hair spray, smoke, and leather, and Dean smiles as he slides up to the bar, waving to the bartender and getting a lukewarm beer in a plastic cup.

Perfect.

The place is on the small side, but filled with people, and Dean feels at ease among them. He smiles at women with teased hair and tight tops, and even at a couple of guys, though Dean will never understand the eyeliner.

He elbows his way to a place at the front, right up close to the stage. The lights dim and someone at the back whoops, and the acrid smell of chemical smoke fills Dean’s lungs as the bottom of the stage disappears into mist.

There is the hum of feedback and the thud of a bass drum as the band takes their spots. Dean strains his neck to see the spiky dark hair of Castiel. He’s partly hidden behind the drums, but Dean can see he barely spares the crowd a glance as he pulls a splash in closer and adjusts his drum stool and microphone.

The first chords of “Judgement Day” ring out loud and heavy over the crowd. The stage is bathed in red and the crowd erupts when Anna struts out onto the stage. Her long, red hair is loosely curled, and she’s wearing a sleeveless black top and ripped jeans. Her wrists glitter with bangles and her eyes are shaded with smoky makeup.

She wraps her hand around the mic and starts to sing, closing her eyes and moving to the music. Dean nods along, mouthing the words to himself and watching her perform. She owns the stage and the crowd from the moment she appears, but she does so with such a careless confidence that it’s almost as if she doesn’t realize she’s not alone.

They move from song to song. “Judgement Day” is followed by “Standing Stone” and “Blackened Sun”. Dean is familiar with all of them, and his attention shifts between the people on stage. Raphael and Michael talk to each other in the middle of songs, leaning over and shouting in each other’s ears. Raphael plays a scorching, crackling solo in “Blackened Sun”, and when Dean smiles up at him he swears Raphael looks back at him and nods.

Gabriel woos the crowd, making up for Anna’s calculated indifference. She fixes the crowd with the occasional smouldering glance, but Gabriel is at the edge of the stage, smiling and winking, waggling his tongue at a woman up on someone’s shoulders. He drops down onto his knees in front of a crowd of young girls, and they screech and grab at him.

After the first couple of songs, Dean spends more and more time watching Castiel. He’s a total professional, completely caught up in what he’s doing, but it’s obvious he’s having a great time. He pulls off a couple of incredible fills, and his other guys in the band nod approvingly. He grins, twirls his drumsticks, and dives right back into it. He never misses a beat. Dean can see beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, and when he strips his soaking wet t-shirt off, Dean has to cough to cover his gasp.

Anna raises her beer glass in a toast to the crowd, and there are shouts and wolf whistles. She drinks, sets the glass back down, and the band starts up a wickedly fast cover of “Livin Lovin Maid”. The crowd sings along, and Dean drums along, waving his arms and mimicking Castiel.

He thinks he sees Castiel looking and he tips his chin up in an acknowledging nod. He gets no response, but he’s not disheartened. He keeps it up, closing his eyes and really getting into it along with the rest of the crowd.

After the Zeppelin cover, the band takes a break. Dean gets a refill on his beer, but the crowd has packed in tighter and he can’t make it back to the stage. He opts for the catwalk balcony that runs along the back of the club. He’s not as close, but it gives him a much better view of Castiel when he comes back out on stage. This time, instead of just settling back behind his kit, he stands up and scans the front row. He shakes his head and scratches at the back of his neck, then sits. Something about it makes Dean sure that he was looking for him, but it’s probably nothing more than wishful thinking.

Away from the press of the front row, Dean indulges himself more, relaxing and rocking out in equal measure. He spends most of his time watching Castiel, even when Anna does her signature pole dance around her mic stand. She grinds and shakes, but Dean’s eyes are on Castiel. He swears he sees him roll his eyes when she arches her back and moans into the microphone.

The second set ends to enthusiastic applause, and Dean has a crazy idea. He slips out while Anna is still blowing kisses to the crowd, and makes his way to the stage door. He can see the band’s tour bus parked at the back end of the lot. He’s not sure what he’ll do when they come out, but he wants to see Castiel up close.

That’ll be enough, he figures. Then he can go back to the hotel satisfied with his night out.

It’s cool and drizzling outside. That must be the reason so few people are hanging around waiting for the band. A couple of girls with bleached hair and fishnets wobble up to him. They can barely focus their eyes, and when Dean finally figures out that they’re asking him for a cigarette, he distractedly turns them down and sends them on their way.

Raphael and Michael come out first, lighting cigarettes and joking with each other. They shake his hand and he congratulates them on a good gig, but they don’t stay to talk and that’s fine with him. Anna comes out with Gabriel. He’s got his hand slung low on her hips, and she has her arm draped over his shoulders. They don’t stop to talk, so completely wrapped up in each other that Dean just hopes they make it to the bus before they get started.

He waits, and waits, and curses the thought that the cigarette moochers might have made him miss Castiel. He’s still not sure what he’s doing out here. Castiel is a good-looking man and Dean admires the way he drums, but he knows practically nothing about him and has no idea what he’s going to say.

He’s just about to give up when the door swings open and Castiel comes out. He’s still half-naked, with his t-shirt hanging over one shoulder. A cigarette glows dimly where it hangs between his lips.

He stops walking when he sees Dean.

“Hello,” he says. His voice is low and gravelly, and it makes something twist inside Dean in a really good way.

“Hi,” Dean answers, smiling. His eyes are roaming over Castiel’s chest and stomach, the just barely visible V of his hips that disappears down into his leather pants. Dean accepted a long time ago that he was into dudes as well as girls, but it still knocks him for a loop every time he sees a guy that really attracts him.

Castiel dips his head to meet Dean’s eyes. “Hi?” He tries again. He takes a drag on his cigarette and Dean is momentarily lost to the hollowing of Castiel’s cheeks and the way his lips close around the butt.

Dean laughs nervously. “I just, umm, I just wanted to tell you that you played a great gig tonight. You’re a hell of drummer.”

Castiel smiles and rocks on his heels. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He laughs at his own joke and smoke puffs out of his nostrils.

Dean licks his lips and brings his eyes back up to Castiel’s face. “You saw that?” He asks, suddenly embarrassed.

“Yeah, it was hard to miss. I’ve never seen anyone so interested in my drumming when Anna is right there in front of them.” He holds his hands up in front of his face as if to demonstrate.

Castiel drops the butt of his cigarette down onto the wet pavement and grinds it out with the heel of his boot. Dean watches the twist of his leg where it turns into his hip and has to swallow back a whimper. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and pulls it tighter around him, hoping to hide any evidence of the uncomfortable arousal that’s starting to burn low in his stomach.

Castiel steps closer, and Dean’s mouth goes dry. There’s a signal here he’s not picking up, he’s sure of it. He didn’t know what he wanted when he left and came around to the stage door, but now he sure as hell does.

“Yeah,” Dean drawls as he tries to remember what they were talking about. “She’s okay, but, she can’t drum.” He gives Castiel his best grin, and is amazed to see it returned.

“Did you hang around here waiting to talk to me?” Castiel asks, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

“I... yeah,” Dean admits, and Castiel leans even closer. Dean can feel his breath on his skin and smell the remnants of his cologne, mixed with sweat and the scent of the rain.

“No one’s ever waited for me before,” Castiel says, fixing Dean with an intense stare, as if he can figure out why Dean is interested if he just looks long enough. His eyes are the clearest blue Dean’s ever seen, and he’s seriously starting to rethink the eyeliner thing. “Certainly no handsome men that can air drum Zeppelin songs.”

“Well, here I am.” It sounds stupid in his head and stupider when he says it.

Castiel hums agreement and his eyes flit down to Dean’s mouth where it hangs open.

“I have a bunch of tapes with-” Dean is cut off by Castiel kissing him. He closes the distance between them, catching Dean’s lower lip between his own. It’s a complete surprise, and Dean’s first instinct is to back away, but he fights it. They are still looking at each other, and Dean can see the question in Castiel’s eyes. Dean takes a step closer to Castiel and sets a sweaty hand on his side, just above the waistband of his pants.

He feels Castiel smile against his mouth, and he lets his eyes fall closed. Castiel’s tongue teases at his lower lip, and one hand snakes in under Dean’s jacket to pull their bodies together. Castiel tastes like tobacco smoke and beer when Dean slides his tongue into his mouth. He can feel Castiel’s erection pressed to his thigh, and he’s sure that Castiel can feel his, too. He shifts his hips and Castiel sucks in a breath, then breaks the kiss.

“Say you want this,” he murmurs against Dean’s lips, and Dean nods messily. He’ll take whatever Castiel will give him.

Dean follows Castiel’s gaze back towards the tour bus. There are still lights on, and there’s music coming from an open window. The corner of Castiel’s mouth pulls down, and he turns his head away when Dean nips at it.

For a second Dean thinks he ruined it, but then Castiel grins.

“Follow me?” He steps away from Dean and walks back towards the bus. Dean throws a glance over his shoulder and follows close behind. He's not really interested in joining the party, but he's not going to give up this opportunity either.

Castiel moves around the front of the bus into the small space between it and the edge of the lot. There’s a chain-link fence holding off a small wooded area that separates the club from the highway that lies on the other side. It’s dark and secluded. When Dean looks up, he sees that all the curtains are drawn on that side of the bus.

As soon as they’re in shadow, Castiel swivels, pressing Dean’s back up against the bus. He kisses him roughly, pushing his tongue deep into his mouth and holding Dean’s hips tight. At first Dean’s not sure what to do with his hands, so he grabs at Castiel’s shoulders, slides a hand up into his hair, and just keeps holding on and making sure that this is really happening.

Castiel drags his mouth along the stubble of Dean’s jawline, and Dean tilts his head back and sighs. Castiel pushes a hand between them and presses his palm to Dean’s dick through his jeans.

“I don’t normally do this,” Castiel growls. His lips brush the shell of Dean’s ear and he uses his own hip to press his hand harder against Dean. “But you looked so good, and you were so into it. You were distracting.” He says it like it’s an accusation, and while Dean had just been having a good time, he can’t say he’s sorry about the consequences of air drumming in the front row.

Castiel slides both hands up under the front of Dean’s t-shirt. It’s damp with sweat and rain, but Castiel’s hands are warm and soft on the skin of his belly.

“I didn’t see you after the break. I was afraid you left.” He runs his hands along Dean’s ribcage, dragging his thumbs over his nipples. Dean’s hips jerk in response and Castiel grinds against him. He’s so hard that the zipper on his jeans is painful.

“Changed spots,” Dean pants. “Wanted to see you better.” He moves his hands from where they grip Castiel’s hips to push them in between their bodies. He fumbles with the fly on Castiel’s pants, and when he dips his hand inside he gives a groan that rumbles low in his throat.

Castiel is not wearing any underwear inside his leather pants. Instead of cotton, Dean’s hand finds coarse-soft hair and the warm, heavy line of Castiel’s dick, already leaking. He slides his thumb over the tip, spreading out the wet he finds there, and Castiel’s hips stutter against him.

“It gets hot on stage,” Castiel says by way of explanation. He shimmies a little and his pants fall down away from his hips, enough to free his dick so that Dean can wrap his hand around it.

Dean pauses and looks around. “Umm,” he starts, clearing his throat. “What... I mean.”

Castiel opens the fly of Dean’s jeans and pushes them and his underwear down off his hips. He rucks up Dean’s t-shirt to the middle of his chest and presses their bodies together.

“Okay,” Dean breathes. “Fuck, yeah, good.”

It’s warm and slick where their dicks are trapped between them. Dean grabs Castiel’s ass with both hands and pulls him closer, and after a moment of enthusiastic but uncoordinated thrusts they set up a rhythm. Castiel rests his forearms on either side of Dean’s head against the gritty surface of the bus. They kiss again and again, sloppy and urgent, punctuated by moans that Dean is sure someone inside will hear.

He’s surprised they haven’t felt the bus rocking from the power Castiel is putting behind his hips. He pulls back, and Dean watches him. His blue eyes are hooded with lust and he bites at his lower lip as he forces a hand between them and wraps it around both their erections.

Dean’s head hits the bus with a thunk when Castiel squeezes and rolls into his grip. It’s filthy and intense and Dean won’t last much longer. He sucks in cool, deep breaths that do nothing to calm him or lessen the tight heat growing in his groin. He's so close now.

“Yeah, come on. Fuck it,” Castiel growls into the side of Dean’s neck. Dean tries, but he has precious little room to move between the bus and Castiel’s body.

His hand works over both their lengths, and his pace is desperate. He twists his wrist and tightens his grip to a firm fist when he runs his hand over their heads. Dean’s climax comes almost out of nowhere. He bucks his hips and whines, filling Castiel’s palm with hot, sticky come.

Castiel’s eyes go wide and he gives a breathy laugh. He smears Dean’s come over both of them and Dean’s eyes flick down to watch. The muscles stand out on Castiel’s forearm, and Dean can see the tendons and veins along the back of his widely stretched hand. It’s really hot, and just slick enough. Dean shifts his hips, relishing the sharp, overwrought sensation. It’s a short show, only a couple of strokes before Castiel is also coming, striping his soft stomach with semen.

He falls forward against Dean and gives a couple more aborted thrusts. Dean can feel where Castiel’s stomach presses against his own, over-warm and wet.

Dean is grateful for Castiel pinning him to the bus. If left on his own, he’s not sure that he’d be able to stand. They stay that way for a few minutes, resting against each other while their breath slows and evens out. Dean can feel Castiel’s heartbeat through the fabric of his t-shirt. He slides his hand up along Castiel’s back and holds him close.

“I should go inside,” Castiel mumbles eventually, and Dean nods. He gets it. It’s not like they can stay out here and cuddle against the side of a bus.

Castiel stands and tucks himself back into his pants. He pulls them up and slips on his t-shirt while Dean gets himself sorted. He’s a mess, but if he’s lucky Sam will be asleep and he won’t have to explain.

They look at each other for a long moment, each of them waiting for the other to go first.

“My brother and I, we’re kind of on a road trip,” Dean offers. “We don’t really know where we’re going next, but-”

“Richmond,” Castiel volunteers. He grins nervously and Dean thinks he sees hope in his eyes. “We’ll be in Richmond day after tomorrow. The Black Rock, I think the place is called.”

“Do you think...” Dean motions between the two of them. “I mean, d’you want?”

“Yeah,” Castiel answers. “This time maybe we can talk a little. I can get you backstage.”

Dean smiles. “Sure. Sounds good.” He’s got something like a second date with the drummer in his favorite band.

Castiel nods towards the front of the bus. “I should-”

“Dean, by the way.” He extends a hand and Castiel takes it, laughing a little.

“Right. Hello, Dean.”

“Hello, Castiel. Pleasure to meet you,” he adds with a chuckle.

“You can call me Cas,” Castiel says as he walks away. “That way they’ll know you already know me.”

He gives Dean a last look and disappears around the front end of the bus. Dean leans against the side for a minute to collect his thoughts before heading back to his car.

On the way back to the hotel, he pops a mixtape into his stereo and blasts “Judgement Day”.


End file.
